


Wanting You (Doesn't Make Me Gay)

by suitesamba



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: M/M, Sex Toys
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-04
Updated: 2013-02-04
Packaged: 2017-11-28 05:26:46
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,443
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/670781
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/suitesamba/pseuds/suitesamba
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Auror Harry ends up in Snape’s place of business ten years (and three marriages) after their brief post-war affair. Harry doesn’t think he’s gay. Severus begs to differ.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Wanting You (Doesn't Make Me Gay)

**Author's Note:**

> **Disclaimer:** This is a work of fiction. The characters and their worlds belong to their original writers and no copyright infringement or offense is intended. No money was made from this story.
> 
>  **A/N:** Written for Porn Sunday 2013 on LJ/IJ/DW. Thanks to Roozetter for “I just can’t see Snape saying that” and to Torino10540 for the alternate word for female genitalia because of (see “Roozette” above). Thanks also to veridari for the inspiration for Harry’s Auror uniform. You can see it [here](http://veridari.livejournal.com/20405.html#cutid1).

The commotion in the street was getting on Snape’s nerves.

The fact that he could even hear it was disconcerting. The exterior walls of the building were imbued with every variety of protection and noise cancelling charm. This wasn’t a mere retail establishment. This was his office, his laboratory where he came every day when he left the house. He did his brewing here, and his research, and his experimentation. He stored ingredients here, both rare and volatile. This establishment was so far off the beaten track, tucked into the end of a small alleyway dividing the affordable and low rent districts of Diagon Alley, that it was unusual to hear anything at all in the street.

Snape frowned. It was probably the new neighbors who had moved in to the long-vacant office space next door a month ago. Their window was still unmarked, yet most days the place had a progression of unsavory-looking visitors. He’d yet to figure out what they actually _did_ in there, but he didn’t stay up at night worrying about it either. Since the war, and his subsequent hard-fought and won pardon, he’d made it his business to not poke sleeping giants. He stayed out of the public eye and busied himself with research and brewing. He did his socializing, what little there was, in Muggle establishments. While he had been denied the Warrior’s Stipend that had been awarded to nearly everyone else in the Order, the Ministry had finally released the small trust Albus had left him. His house at Spinner’s End, while small and spare, was long-paid for and cost him only utilities and taxes. He operated just on this side of the law and moved around just beneath the level of “polite society.” All in all, he was content.

He’d not started down the path of avoiding the limelight from the beginning. In fact, he’d kicked off the post-war celebrations by deflowering the Boy Who Lived. He smirked. Memories of those decadent months still served as wanking fantasies today. But despite the fact that it had been mutually consensual, the Wizarding public had not approved of a Death Eater – even a redeemed and repentant one—banging their Chosen One. That gobsmacked, shit-eating smile on Potter’s face was just too much in the face of the war’s devastation.

Harry, despite undoubtedly premature declarations of love and undeniably fabulous sex, had lasted only three months under the constant pressure. Snape, too old to play games, had given him the choice of a public statement that he had made his choice and was sticking with it, or the door. Harry had refused to choose so Snape had sent him packing. Within a year, Harry was married to the Weasley girl.

Snape had not regretted the decision, though he did miss the vigorous and satisfying sex. At times, he even missed Potter. He’d rather enjoyed Harry getting his pants in a twist over the Ministry.

Now, hearing the unmistakable crack of Apparition in the street, Severus walked to the window and peaked through the blind.

Damn.

Something was going down. There were Aurors – he quickly counted at least six red robes in the swarm of humanity buzzing around the narrow street. 

He stepped away from the window. _Now_ would be a good time to leave. He hurried back to the laboratory and cut the flames on the three bubbling cauldrons, then returned to the front room to fetch his cloak. It was his favorite, only seven or eight years old and very serviceable. He’d left it on the hook near the door, with his fur-lined gloves in its pockets.

He was a minute too slow.

There was a low, rapid knock at the door. He sighed and pressed an eye to the magical peephole. 

No one was there. But the knock repeated. And again.

He knew that knock. Four quick raps, a pause, four more.

He gave an even more-pronounced sigh and cracked open the door no more than six inches.

“Go away!” he hissed.

But six inches was enough for Auror Potter, invisibility cloak and all, to insert his foot and push stealthily into Snape’s space.

The noise in the street had subsided and Aurors were popping away with prisoners.

“Please tell me this is over,” hissed Snape, not even bothering to try to direct his statement at the invisible Potter.

Potter slid the cape off, revealing himself between the door and the window. He did not look at all surprised to see Snape. He raised his wand and cast a powerful spell at the wall Snape shared with the new neighbors.

“Not yet,” Potter said as the wall shimmered. He frowned.

“I doubt you have a protective spell in your arsenal that’s not already on that wall,” said Snape. He draped his cape over his arm and looked pointedly at Potter. He did not let his eyes look anywhere but Potter’s face. There was dirt on his cheek and a bleeding cut on his chin. “ _Now_ may I leave?”

“In a minute.” Potter kept his voice low and looked at the wall instead of at Snape. “But I’m staying. And I need to see what’s going on next door, so on the off chance I can’t undo your wards, you might want to stick around for a few minutes. I’d hate to damage anything unnecessarily.”

Snape narrowed his eyes and stared at Potter. He realized the man wasn’t being rude – he was in full Auror mode. He’d already moved to the wall and was sizing up the shelving.

Snape folded his arms. “Would you care to tell me what this is about, _Auror_ Potter?

“Harry.” Potter was on his hands and knees now, running his fingers along the baseboard.

“Would you care to tell me what this is about, _Harry_?

“Muggle drugs,” Potter responded, still on his hands and knees. “Yeah, I know. Pretty boring, but the British government takes it seriously and our Ministry is playing nice. But there’s money to be made in it and getting around the Muggle law is pretty easy with magic on your side.”

“Ah.” Severus watched as Harry scrambled around on the floor a few moments longer. He didn’t often have the opportunity to stare at fit men in tight clothing in his own place of work. “You can’t stay.”

“But I can,” Harry said, standing up. He brushed off his knees. Severus made a mental note to dust the hardwood floors. “I’ve been assigned recon—here.”

“You’re about to make me aware of some obscure law that allows the Ministry to come into one’s home or place of employment and set up shop if it’s all for the greater good.”

Harry grinned. For the first time since Potter appeared, Snape was reminded of the eighteen-year old who had just offed the Dark Lord. “Yeah. Only not so obscure, really.” He dug through a pocket, pulled out a crumpled pamphlet, and handed it to Snape. “You can go now. I can handle these wards.”

“I can _go_?” Severus shook his head and shoved the pamphlet into his robe pocket. “I think not. I am not about to leave you here alone.”

“I have orders to call in reinforcements as I need them,” Harry said. Snape wasn’t sure whether he had deliberately misinterpreted him. Potter began removing books from a shelf and stacking them on a library table in the middle of the room.

Severus watched him work.

“What is the Ministry’s compensation policy for damages?” he asked as Harry dropped a brass weight and bent to pick it up, giving him another nice view of his shapely arse.

“Replacement value, loss of work and opportunity stipend, all expenses paid for alternate quarters or office space and cost of moving. It’s all in the pamphlet.” 

Severus raised a wary eyebrow as Harry continued to empty the shelves, working quickly and quietly. He was not the boy he’d been when Snape had introduced him to the joys of cock and arse in those long-gone post-war months of sadness and euphoria.

Snape sat down in an armchair and made himself comfortable.

“Staying, I take it?” asked Harry as he continued to work. “Against regulations, of course, but I’ll just put it in my report that you chained yourself to the fireplace and refused to leave. It’s happened before with me.” Here he stopped and caught Snape’s eye. “Must be my charm and charisma and all that.”

Snape frowned. Potter said it like he didn’t believe it. Ah.

“Still barking up the wrong tree, I take it,” said Snape with some degree of satisfaction.

“I like women.” Potter dropped an armful of stirring rods onto the table. 

“I like women, too,” Snape said. Why was he doing this? The only words he’d exchanged with Potter since their ill-fated affair had been “Good day” when they passed on the street. Potter was a non-entity in Severus’ life. Except that he was, unaccountably, here in the office area of his private laboratory, dismantling his shelving and crawling around invitingly on his hands and knees, wiggling his arse at him. Well, not _at_ him, precisely. But at least in his general direction.

“My mother doesn’t count.” Harry frowned as he examined something. One of Dumbledore’s putter-outers, Severus thought.

Snape shrugged. “I liked my own mother as well,” he said. “And Minerva.”

Harry turned from the shelves, arms now full of candles. He grinned. Severus liked that grin. “I like Minerva too. But I don’t want to get naked with her. You know what I mean, Snape.”

“So, how is the current Mrs. Potter?” Snape folded his arms. He may not be in Potter’s social circle, but he did keep up with his life, just as the rest of the Wizarding world did, through that cursed rag of a newspaper.

“There is no current Mrs. Potter,” Harry said, a tiny bit tersely. Snape had finally hit a raw nerve.

“A Mr. Potter, then?” Snape asked, crossing his legs and getting comfortable.

“Very funny.” 

“Your marriages might last longer if you mated with the appropriate gender,” Snape said, smirking slightly.

“I didn’t ask you for marriage advice.” The calm neutrality was back in Harry’s voice. He picked up a book off a stack he’d made on the table and studied its cover, shaking his head as he recognized it for a slightly dark tome.

“That book is perfectly legal and no, you didn’t. And as I have avoided the institution of marriage while you have rammed it head-on three times, I am hardly the one to give it.”

“Thank you.”

Harry kept working. When the contents of the shelves were removed, he began pressing against the wall with his hands. Severus approved of this position. It afforded him a nice view of Harry’s backside. This was not the wiry eighteen-year old body he had so enjoyed all those years ago. This Harry Potter was firm and fit from a decade of work as an Auror. There wasn’t much Snape liked about Aurors, but the uniforms were certainly nice, despite the putrid color. Form fitting to the waist, flaring out slightly over the arse, cut up the sides for mobility.

And there were the leather accessories. 

And the boots.

Ahhh. The boots.

There could never be enough leather in those boots. 

And Snape had plenty of opportunity to look his fill.

He watched while Potter rigged up some sort of eavesdropping system. He watched him sit on the floor, back against the wall, using something he called “Extendable Ears.” In the two hours Potter spent on the floor in that position with what looked like string coming out of his ears, Snape made it through the current edition of _Potions Monthly_ and moved on to balancing his ledgers.

Fortunately, for both of them, the criminals next door were rather stupid. Within three hours of the initial raid, they were back at their illicit activities. Harry perked up, holding a hand to his ear and cocking his head, then jumped to his feet and called in reinforcements.

The criminals were handily apprehended, but in hindsight, Severus thought he’d rather have had _them_ in his office than the Aurors.

Now, exactly three hours and forty minutes after Harry had arrived, Severus stood facing him in the wreckage of his office. 

“Like a herd of hippogriffs!” he was hissing. “And Aurors, all of them! Where do you get your training – the school Quidditch pitch? The playground?” He whirled on Harry. “Out! I will send my bill to the Ministry, to _your_ attention, Mr. Potter.”

“Harry.”

Severus glared. His place was in shambles. He was only glad that the damage was limited to the front room.

Harry sighed and bent to pick up some sodden books. 

“I do not require your help, _Mr. Potter,_ ” Snape said. He was righteously indignant. The table Harry had filled with the contents of his office shelves had been knocked over when too many Aurors had tried to crowd into the room after the brief raid next door. Several Aurors had crashed into the shelving as they scrambled away from the table. Another had fallen into his roll top desk and sent papers and ledgers flying. How the fire had started no one could say.

Harry looked up at him and smiled tiredly. “I want to help. I’m sorry this happened.”

“Sorry? You’re sorry? Well, sorry doesn’t….” he paused in his rant. “Where’s that smoke coming from? I thought the fire was out…is your boot on fire?”

Harry stood quickly and started shaking his foot.

“My boot’s on fire! Shit – no. It’s my sock. How did that get _inside…_?”

Snape had to push him into a chair to make him stop moving. A well-aimed _Aguamenti_ sent even more steam into the air. Snape, kneeling at Potter’s feet now, nearly trembled as he started to unlace the boot. Fuck. The laces went up to the knees. He barely stopped himself from running his hands up the leather.

When Harry tried to help, Snape pushed his hands out of the way.

“Stop. I will do this.”

His voice left no room for argument. Harry dropped his hands and watched as Snape deftly unlaced his boot, almost as if he did it every day, then pulled the boot off, set it aside and carefully began removing the charred crimson sock.

“Fuck,” Harry hissed as his leg hair pulled away with the sock.

“These socks are ridiculous,” said Snape. “They’ve melted.”

“Ministry issued,” groaned Harry. “Part of our uniform.”

“How comforting to know you do not buy red knee socks because you _like_ them.” 

He had the sock off soon enough and was examining Harry’s calf. He inhaled, knowing he was about to overstep all boundaries or propriety. He loved men’s legs. He ran his hand down the back, kneading the taut muscle just because he could. When Harry leaned forward to try to get a look at the burn, Severus pushed him back. “Let me look,” he said.

The burn was not quite blistering. Severus pushed the trousers up above Harry’s knee and smoothed both hands down around the contours of Harry’s leg.

“Snape—what are you…?” Harry’s voice held a question and a warning.

Snape dropped his hands and stood. He leaned forward so that his robes were not pressed too tightly against his rapidly hardening cock.

“The burn salve is in the laboratory. It will be best to get away from this wreckage and treat it back there. It’s already likely enough to get infected.” He bent and picked up Harry’s boot and ruined sock.

Harry gave him a peculiar look but stood and tramped along unevenly behind him.

“You’d better not be trying to get me into….”

“Sit on the bed,” Severus instructed, cutting him off. He pointed to a cot in the corner of the laboratory, and when he came back a moment later with a jar of clear unguent, Harry was sitting cautiously on the bed. He’d hiked up his robes and they were bunched up on the bed around him. He watched Snape as Severus once again dropped to his knees in front of him.

Snape scooped up the cream with two fingers and began spreading it on Harry’s calf. 

“That’s good.” Harry breathed out slowly. “You make it yourself?”

“Of course,” Severus answered, his voice tight. He had both hands on Harry’s calf now and found them sliding down toward his bare foot. Well, in for a knut…. He worked the heel with one hand and used his other to rub the top of the foot and the toes.

“It’s not burned there, Snape…”

“Quiet.” Severus noted with interest that Harry obeyed. He ran his hand up again, almost to the knee, then wiped them on a towel and began to unlace the other boot. He did not let his head interfere with the course of action his cock had worked out. He simply knew the boot must come off. Now.

“I don’t think there’s anything wrong with that leg,” Harry said, his voice low. 

“I will be the judge of that,” said Snape. “An ember may have fallen in this boot, too. You may not have felt it with the adrenaline surge.” He worked his hands in behind Harry’s ankle and pulled off the boot then peeled down the sock.

Snape sat back and regarded Harry Potter’s legs. He then leaned forward and placed a hand on each knee and pushed them apart, working his hands up over the trousers and onto the thighs. Fuck. They were just as taut and firm as the calves.

“You shouldn’t be doing this, Snape.” Harry’s voice was surprisingly calm. “I mean, I know we have a past, but it’s past. I’m not even….”

Snape leaned down and buried his face in Harry’s crotch, nuzzling it through trousers and robes, easily finding the already hard cock and mouthing it through the fabric.

Harry’s hands came down on Severus’ head as he let out a breathy groan. They did not push him away.

“Tell me to stop,” Snape said. He kneaded Harry’s thighs as he continued to rub his mouth and nose against Harry’s prick.

“This is a bad idea, Snape,” said Harry. His voice was low and raspy. Snape could feel him contracting his arse cheeks, and he slipped his hands down, passing over Harry’s hips and sliding them under his arse. He squeezed the cheeks appreciatively. 

“No, it’s a marvelous idea,” Snape said, not lifting his head. “An adequate way to keep my mind off the destruction you caused today.”

“But I’m not gay.” It was nearly a whisper.

“No?” Snape was unbuckling the sturdy leather belt, his fingertips caressing Harry’s belly through his uniform shirt.

“No….” Harry moaned, long and low, as Severus’ hand snaked into his pants and grasped his cock. “I like women…I like how they smell…I like their breasts, their soft skin….”He seemed to be repeating a mantra. Something he went through every night, perhaps?

Snape ignored him and pushed Harry’s trousers and pants down, maneuvering them under his arse until they dropped to the floor. He lifted one of Harry’s legs and pushed the clothing aside then was back on Harry’s cock. He closed his hand around it. Fuck it fit there perfectly, all turgid and warm and already leaking. He tongued the slit and Harry bucked against him.

“You like it when they give you head, don’t you?” Severus breathed. He took the head of Harry’s prick into his mouth and laved it with his tongue, then sucked on it firmly. Harry’s hands tightened in his hair.

“Yeah. Love it,” moaned Harry. “I…I mean I love it…when they give me head.”

“And you love doing it to them, right? Going down on them? Making them buck up into you??” He dipped the fingers of one hand in the cream he’d used on Harry’s burn, then moved it down behind Harry’s bollocks, massaging his perineum. “You love the taste of them, don’t you, Harry?”

Harry gripped Snape’s hair even harder, pulling on it deliciously. He pressed himself forward but Snape pushed him back. Snape’s fingers moved back further, rubbing against Harry’s opening then working inside just a fraction.

“Women…women like to suck you, don’t they? Give pleasure to the Boy Who Lived, hmm?” Snape’s finger wiggled and Harry grunted. “How many of them gave you a finger, Harry? Two fingers?” He pressed the tip of a second finger into Harry along with the first. 

Harry’s hands were scrabbling at Snape’s hair now. He pressed his thighs more tightly against Snape’s waist. Snape stopped talking for a minute, long enough to take most of Harry’s prick into his mouth, swallowing around it as the head pressed against his palate, then into the flesh of his throat. He tongued it, then slipped it out of his mouth. Harry groaned and bucked forward as Snape pressed his fingers in up to the first knuckle, side by side. “Those girls, Harry? Those women…they know where that spot is, don’t they?” He nuzzled the side of Harry’s shaft as the fingers pushed in a fraction more. “They like to bury those painted fingers in you, don’t they? Pushing inside, looking for your prostate? They want to make you _sing_ , don’t they, Harry? Sing?” 

He took the cock in his mouth again. He was heady with the feel of Harry’s thighs clenching around him, with the silky heat around his fingers, the spongy feel of Harry’s cockhead against his tongue and throat. He briefly wondered how long it had been since Harry had had a real lover. With his free hand, he held Harry’s prick again, sliding his hand up to cradle the head as it popped out of his mouth. He looked up at Harry and met his eyes.

They stared at each other, Harry panting, eyes near desperate. The corners of Snape’s mouth rose into what, for him, passed as a smile. Very slowly, and deliberately, he pressed one finger further into Harry. Harry grunted, his forehead beading with sweat.

“The problem with women, Harry,” he whispered, “is that they can’t pound into you. But that doesn’t matter, does it? Because You’re. Not. Gay. You like pounding into _them_. You _like_ their soft breasts and their slick quims. You don’t _miss_ having a cock in your arse, do you?” He pressed his finger in again, crooking it slightly. 

“Fuck you, Snape,” Harry rasped, reaching down with surprising speed and yanking Snape forward by his hair, pulling him down half of top of him as he fell back onto the bed.

“No, fuck _you_ , Potter,” returned Snape as he rolled on Harry then scrambled to right himself.

But Harry had him by the neck, the hair, the lips.

He sunk down into the kiss, enjoying the feel of Harry’s hands on his neck and shoulders. The tongue in his mouth was less tentative than it had been, more than it should be given the ten years that had passed. But the mouth tasted just as sweet, just as hungry. He pushed himself up, grinding his groin against Harry deliberately, then maneuvering for position until he was straddling him. He lowered his arse, sitting back, and began slowly working on the closures of Harry’s robes. He let them fall to the side and ran his hands up under the tight shirt beneath, stroking his chest as Harry groaned and closed his eyes. He caressed his stomach, his pectorals, pushed his hands up onto his shoulders and squeezed them, then ran them down again and began circling his nipples.

“You loved it when women caressed your chest, didn’t you, Harry?” he intoned, bending down to take Harry’s chin into his mouth, sucking on it, nuzzling his neck as his fingers traced around his nipples. “Did they kiss your nipples, Harry? Were their mouths soft and gentle on them? Hmm?” He pulled his hands back down and grabbed the bottom of Harry’s shirt, pulling it up and over his head, then off his arms along with the sleeves of his robes. “Or did they know what you _like_ , Harry?” He lowered his head and took a nipple into his mouth, pulling on it with his teeth while Harry hissed, then engulfing it in his mouth, sucking on one while squeezing the other with thumb and forefinger. He pulled away, blew on the moist tissue while Harry shuddered and turned his head to the side.

“Look at me, Harry.”

Snape sat back, still straddling Harry, working his nipples with both hands, rubbing them with his palms, squeezing them, plucking them.

Harry looked at him. 

“Still think you’re not gay, Harry?” Snape said, his voice low and seductive.

“Liking this…doesn’t make me gay…doesn’t make me anything….” Harry shuddered as Snape’s mouth descended on his ear.

“Pity. I don’t fuck straight men,” whispered Snape as Harry’s arms came up and around him. “But I’m not ready to give up yet. Turn over.”

He pulled away and moved to the side while Harry groaned and turned over. He seemed almost grateful to have the bed to push into, to give his cock more friction.

Severus positioned Harry so that he was more or less kneeling, arse up, chest on the bed. He whispered a cleansing charm as he kneaded Harry’s arse, admiring the musculature that definitely hadn’t been there all those years ago. Reaching into the drawer of the small bedside table, he pulled out the lube he kept there and gave Harry’s arse a light slap. 

“Spread your legs, Harry,” he instructed, placing the lube on the bed beside him.

And Snape was on him, nipping at this arse cheeks, then tonguing him, licking from arse to balls, pulling one plump bollock into his mouth and sucking it, releasing it for the other as Harry’s moaned louder. 

“How many times did one of your wives do _this_ for you?” he asked, not giving Harry time to answer before he speared him with his sharp tongue. He used tongue and fingers to loosen him, then pulled open the drawer again and pulled something out. He stretched down on top of Harry’s back and held the object close to Harry’s face.

“A little friend,” he said, pressing the head of the dildo against Harry’s slightly open mouth. “It’s kept me company on and off for a good many years while you… _experimented_ with women.” He pulled it away and leaned down and kissed Harry, taking his time to taste him properly, then pressing a kiss to Harry’s eye, another to the soft skin between cheek and ear.

Harry groaned as he pulled away. “Please, Severus….”

And he groaned as Severus pressed the lubed dildo against him, all the while caressing him with his voice.

“You need to stop trying with women, Harry. I think the Wizarding public will let out a collective cheer when they realize you’ve finally figured it out. Because a woman will never appreciate this lovely arse like a man will. And you can’t tell a woman that you want to be taken, can you? That every so often, the powerful Auror wants to have control taken away from him. That he wants to have his hands held down on the bed or on the wall over his head. But you can tell a man that, Harry. Some men.” He pressed the dildo in, turning it, angling it up. You can tell _me…._ ” 

He worked the toy in and out slowly, mentally devouring Harry’s groans and grunts, watching as it disappeared into the arse, imagining it was his own cock fucking him. Finally, breathing heavily, he stood and slowly began to disrobe.

“Remember the buttons, Harry? I’m undoing them now. I’m dropping my trousers. You recall that I don’t wear pants, do you not?” Piece by piece, his clothing dropped to the floor. When he was completely naked, he pulled out the toy, dropped it on the floor, then stretched out over Harry, lying skin to skin against him.

“I won’t take you unless you ask me to, Harry,” he said, lips against Harry’s ear. He pressed down against him, feeling his cock slide along Harry’s crease, then lifting up and biting Harry’s shoulder gently.

“Doesn’t make me gay,” breathed Harry as he pressed his arse up against Severus.

“I don’t care what you call it now,” answered Snape. There was no way in hell he was going to walk away from this delicious treat. “But don’t come back here again after today if you’re still confused about it.”

Harry again surprised him with his strength, pushing up and turning over so they were lying face to face on their sides. Harry wrapped his arms around Severus’ neck. “Fuck me, Severus,” he said. He rolled to his back, pulling his knees up and canting his hips. He closed his hand around his cock, pulling it slowly, watching Severus, his eyes traveling down to Severus’ generous, hard prick.

It was more than permission. It was more than invitation. Severus took it as a demand.

It took only a moment to lube his cock then press it in slowly, watching Harry’s sweaty face, watching him as he bit his bottom lip, then pushed back against him. He was hot, and tight, and exquisitely new, his face contorting first with pain, morphing slowly into pleasure. 

“Hold the headboard, Harry.” Snape paused, buried deep, wanting to pull out and pound back in, but waiting for Harry to comply.

Harry released the sheets and moved his hands back, grabbing the rungs of the headboard behind him. His arse squeezed even more tightly around Severus’ cock.

“Hold on.” A whispered command. A promise.

Severus pulled out and slid back in, grasping Harry’s hips until his fingers left marks. Out again, then burying himself to the hilt, sliding inside Harry’s tight heat, staring down at their joined bodies, watching Harry’s cock, red, engorged, leaking. He wanted to be even deeper inside Harry. Panting, he pulled out and pulled at Harry’s arm.

“Ride me,” he said, sliding onto the bed on his back beside Harry, half-propped against the headboard. He helped Harry climb onto him, holding his cock up as Harry lowered himself, awkward, wild-eyed, panting, wanting.

Harry sank down, groaning, squeezing his eyes shut. 

“Up now.”

Severus’ hands were on Harry’s hips, urging him upward, then yanking him down again.

It was primal. Bruising. Harry held his cock, fisting it while Snape spoke to him.

“Rest there, all the way down. You can take more, can’t you? A finger? Beside my cock? Just one this time.”

He had worked his finger in and Harry grunted and pressed down.

“Raise yourself up, now. Just a few inches. Ahh. Yes. You can do that. Hold it there. Look at those abdominal muscles working. Those thighs.” He ran his hands over Harry’s abs. “Beautiful, Harry. Hold yourself there and I’ll do the work now.”

He thrust up, and dropped back. Again. Again. Thrust and parry. Slide in, pull out. Harry was audibly panting now, sweat dripping as Snape pushed into him. His thighs were beginning to tremble as Snape’s pace quickened, as he lost himself in the feel of his lover, as he reached out and covered the head of Harry’s cock with his hand, squeezing and twisting until Harry came with a strangled cry, shooting all over Severus’ chest and stomach, collapsing down on Severus as Severus came, pulsing into Harry as he nearly convulsed with the pleasure.

Of Harry Potter. Fucking him. Claiming him. Having him. Again. Finally.

They lay tangled together, panting, until Harry reached down and pulled the covers up around them. Their heads were close, resting on the same pillow.

“If I’m still confused when I wake up, you can do that again,” Harry said, voice shaky. He pressed a kiss against Snape’s bony shoulder. “Maybe in the shower.”

“I don’t have a shower here,” Snape said. He sounded disappointed.

“Shame.” Harry closed his eyes.

“I do have one at home, of course,” Severus mused.

“That’s nice,” said Harry, yawning.

“And a very solid kitchen table. And a four-poster. And some nice silk rope. And perhaps some chocolate sundae sauce in the pantry….”

Harry’s eyes opened. He shifted and stared at Severus. “Maybe I am gay,” he whispered. 

“Maybe Arthur Weasley has freckles on his arse,” muttered Severus.

“Git,” said Harry. “Now, if you let me sleep for a bit, I’ll put on my boots and let you fuck me against the wall.”

And Severus, smart man that he was, shut up and let Harry sleep.

_Fin_


End file.
